The Raven's Moon by Susan King Page B

cradle. "Guard Robin. You're good at that much. If a reiver were to reach for the bairn, you'd sever his hand. But when they ride into your own yard at night—" She gave the dog a look of disgust. All she received in return was a sloppy grin in the moonlight.
    Bluebell padded to the hearth and lay down. As Mairi crossed the main room of the house, she remembered that such raids had terrified her years ago, when she and Iain, as young Highlanders in the Lowlands, had fostered with Hob Kerr and his family, the cousins of her father Duncan Macrae.
    Sometimes, at first, she had lain awake, frightened that reivers would burn down the house and kill them all, just for cattle or the mere thrill of the raid. Now that she knew more about raiding and reivers, her fears had lessened.
    The Borderlands had changed her indeed. She wondered, had she wed Johnny Kerr, if later in life she would have grown as dour and hard as some Border women, toughened by constant threat. Border life had not hardened her yet—not entirely. She longed to return to the Highlands, but she stayed for Iain, and his dear love Jennet.
    Through the open door she saw the gleam and jostling shadows of several riders. She ran past the peat bricks glowing on the hearth, past the scrubbed oak table and the box bed that belonged to Iain and Jennet, past the little cradle with its bundled, sleeping babe, past the dog that guarded the wee one. Pausing in a spill of moonlight, she looked out at the yard.
    The wind whipped around the silent riders and their restive horses. Pale light glimmered on steel helmets. Lances thrust upward like cruel thorns in the moonlit sky.
    Mairi desperately hoped that their mission here tonight did not involve Devil's Christie. Earlier, the lad had gone back to the old ruin to guard the injured Blackdrummond.
    Whatever brought the reivers here, she must be bold and steady. Striding out of the house, she approached them.
    Jennet stood barefoot in a simple gown, gripping a shawl around her. She looked up at the men, thick reddish curls blowing back, pretty face moon-pale.
    "What do you want here, Heckie Elliot?" Jennet asked.
    "We were thinkin' you might be needing someone to herd your Highland cattle, Jennet Macrae," Heckie said, grinning. "Since your man has been in Simon Kerr's dungeon these long weeks. Or perhaps you'll need someone to plow your fallow field, eh?" Coarse sniggers rippled through the men who listened. Mairi sucked in her breath. Jennet raised her chin.
    Heckie Elliot had come here before in the black of night to talk to Iain. His band of men were his kinsmen, some of them outlawed Bordermen, some even English outlaws, and all were known for swift, fierce night raids—and known to wickedly collect illegal fees to prevent those very raids.
    Their mood this night was dangerous. Mairi could feel the tension crawl up the back of her neck, could sense their menace.
    Let them steal what they would, she thought—so long as they rode away quick and left them whole. Two women had little defense against such men.
    "Where is Devil's Christie?" one man, large and burly, asked. "He snaps like a yard-dog when we come here. Is he chained inside wi' your pup?" Someone laughed.
    "My brother will be back soon, Clem Elliot," Jennet answered. "With my Armstrong kinsmen, so you'd best be gone from here."
    Mairi watched Heckie while Jennet spoke the lie. Heckie and his brother Clem seemed to accept that, and Mairi felt relieved—they had not seen Christie or his prisoner. "Aye, Heckie Elliot," she said. "The Armstrongs will be here soon. There will be a blood feud if Jennet's kinsmen find you here."
    "Eh," Heckie said, pouting like a great, ugly child. "We only came to help Mistress Jennet herd her husband's cattle and black-face sheep too."
    "Herd them to our lands," Clem muttered, chuckling.
    "You have no cause to be here. Go!" Mairi called out.
    "We've cause to be where we care to be, Mairi Macrae," Heckie replied somberly.
    "You break the